1984 -    3 followers
(1984-present)

A New Yorker turned West Coaster (of three months)
With music, art and writing...trudging through misinformation, techno-babble and the ever-rising Self Importance to find the Heart.
I am a fan of many types of writing, many forms of expression but more importantly the underlying Humanity. Our Natural Ease and Ability to Relate to One Another.

I am a Natural Leader, but and even better Student
(1984-present)

A New Yorker turned West Coaster (of three months)
With music, art and writing...trudging through misinformation, techno-babble and the ever-rising Self Importance to find the Heart.
I am a fan of many types of writing, many forms of expression but more importantly the underlying Humanity. Our Natural Ease and Ability to Relate to One Another.

I am a Natural Leader, but and even better Student

Try to remember
But my feelings can't know for sure
Tried to reach out
But it's gone

Lucky stars in your eyes
I am walking the cow

I really don't know how I came here
I really don't know why I'm staying here
Oh oh oh...
I am walking the cow

Tried to point my finger
But the wind was blowing me around
In circles
Circles

Lucky stars in your eyes
I am walking the cow

I really don't know what I have to hear
I really don't know what I have to care
Oh oh oh...
I am walking the cow

Daniel Johnston Song that I love
If you love music and you love Poetry you should check out Daniel (If you haven't!)

Rip my head from my shoulders
Tare me to pieces and rearrange my caging
This is NOT my reality
I am something different than yousee

I will fly when I am finished here
Far away from your critique and mis-read
None of what you say penetrates
My knowledge and heart held above this carcass

Scoff, Gasp, assume you are the victor
Your Ignorance, your obvious weakness
Blinds you to the tinge of Empathy
But I will forgive and forget you...

Beautiful Freaks
Every Size-every Fashion
Loud
Strange
Popped Culture

Slow movers
Hip-ster Retro Chick

Wait Now that's A GUY
Dyed Hairs
Soul-less
Glare

Stores and Bores
Homeless
Snores
Picking Trash
While
Searching Eyes Through

Urban Mob

Crowds and crowds
Of Skinny Jean-ed Legs
Curly Headed
Whit Boys Jam
Soulful Blues

Of What(?)
The Loss Of Saturday
Cartoons...(?)

Cheap Dates
Dark Eyed
Grungy Beauty
Hidden By Lost Meaning

Of Splashy Sub-Culture

My First LA ArtWalk Last Night
-First Impressions (Mean EVERYTHING)

A sweet,sweet boy
You are real
and full of heart
A nice guy

You give & give, expecting the same
Trudging through
You try too hard

If you would simply deflate, relax...
Take some breath
Some insights come easier

Every moment
Un-needing of category
Let your soul sink
In a field

Watch the tall grass sway
Realize your being is on the Exterior
Of this body of stress

I often stray
to protect...
from self-depricating, destruction of being

You are Brilliant

See that in Life you Must adhere a password
Your emotions
Granting access only those deserving
Take less seriously those misusers

Laugh Loudly
To loosen their shackles

Many Vultures will swoop and pick
But you are far from spoiled
They cannot feed on what they cannot catch

Hasten your thoughts and steps
But travel with sturdy Grace

You Will surpass this
You will find Respect
But you must prepare your mind and heart
For the Races

On the daily Daily I am craving
The good stuff
To get me through the day
Without profession
I turn to habit

Maybe I should call on a friend
My good ole' Pusher(s)
Which to call
which to call

Maybe Johnny
Mr. Cash
he's always got the stuff
A lift from any plateau

Maybe something more mellow or calm
Someone to cry the Blues too
To stroll along with, to Muddy up
Those Waters

Anything to get me through

When I paint, I let go
dropping all expectation
without control
I use my knowledge
I use my soul

There is no wrong turn
I am sure of every movement
playing and loving each color
I blend and spray, dab and scratch
To reveal all truths

My emotions and convictions
Scream Out
Defying controls and lines
I am free
I am Free

My paints are keys
releasing me

The Culture of No culture
It's an empty road to walk
With lines, and shapes
Neatly paved. Oh There are park benches to sit
But most are taken by tired travelers
Resting or sleeping away the warm hours

 
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